The Rest of Us
by account is deleted
Summary: The minority, left out of the glory. What happens to them as their lives continue. Blnaket disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and slightly AU
1. Butterflies

All her life . . . it was amazing what that one little thing could do to you.

It broke her heart every day . . .what was there to do besides laugh and move on?

Except it was hard. And she couldn't. There wasn't even the smallest chance yet . . . . maybe someday.

She could remember everything. The way he smiled, but not at her, the way he laughed, but not with her.

And then when they stood face to face. And then she understood. She was nothing to him, not even thought about. She was a minor annoyance, a dog.

And that was when the crying began. At night, muffled into her pillow. The crying did stop after a while, but the insomnia never did.

The suffering was intense, but it hardened, and after a while, it went a away. Or at least that was what she thought. Really, it went into a chrysalis.

Caterpillars, when they come out of a chrysalis, are butterflies. The most beautiful things. The suffering didn't change like that. Instead it hardened, and she was left with anger.

So she took it out on _them_. Or, more specifically, _her._ She'd seen the way they walked and talked, the way he respected her, and how he listened.

It was a just a hint of the great man he could be.

Could be.

Nothing helped her. Forget and move on, that's the advice her friends told her. But she had given another name, and besides, her friends really didn't care. They were together as a matter of convenience. As practice for later.

Later. She hated that word. It was what her life amounted to. Maybe later, he will notice. Hah! Later, we will be respected. But that was before.

This is now. This is present day. This is her staring at her life, at her old scars, at the old memories.

And this is her staring at her husband, the strange man who was never really hers. And at the child she can't forgive herself for conceiving.

Right now, she envies them and their happy faces. They came off on the good side, where everybody laughed and where there were no serious cares.

The butterflies had a chrysalis. Right now she wished she had one too.

She would do anything to change. She would change her life, her future, her past . . .

Out of everything, she envies the butterflies.

**AN: So, this is my first fanfic. I'm not sure if I should keep going, or just leave it. But, if you want to find out who it is, you're going to have to wait. Or review. PLEASE REVIEW!! -puppy dog face- Thanks for reading!!**

**flamesfire**

**you fight fire with fire**

**a warning**


	2. A Death

_Drooblesrhymeswithdirbblesanddrabblesandripplenononotheslittleswirlsaroundmehauntingwhymewhywhyisawa_

_passingbutterflywhythechildlostitsmotherwhatchildchildchildi'mnotachildmanacrossmanoldsooldoldoldlikeapeachh_

_that'slostitsripenessandonl__hasitsskins__oldoldwhyaretheycomingcomingminminngmingsowhitesowhitewhyliftedupscreamwhy mewhywhymeaahpainpainpainPAINPAINPAIN—_

The first breakthrough. I am lucid.

_Nonononosomuchhurtssobadwhymewhymewhymethemenbringpainwhymewhymeoldladyodladyyoungboyyoungyoungboy_

_cryswhytearswhynotstoppinghe'snotworkingbrokenhithimmaybeworkcrymorestillnotworkingwhynotstopcryingsobbingwhy_

_mewhymereallyniceboyoldladygoawaaywhywhywhywhywhymencomingbackmencomingbackmencomingbackohnononnonnonono_

_peasebegcryscreampainpainpainPAINPAINPAINPAIN—_

I remember who I am. And that is more cruel than to have me mad. 

_Ohnononnonononononononnonogoawayawayawaywentawaymutteringdarkwhisperscreepingovermeonmyarmswhymewhyme_

_everyonegoneoldmanstillhereoldmantiredsleepingdroopingfallingoffbedwhyfallingrushingnoisessounmencomenonononowaittook_

_oldmanawaywhycan'tseehisfacecoveredinwhitecolorofpainwhygonesomuchcryinggrimallaroundmenbackohnonohereformenonono_

_nononononoPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN—_

This time they tell me I will stay myself longer. They tell me that they figured out how to properly apply the spells to my need. They don't know about my real need. Where is my husband I ask. They shift around, uncomfortable to tell the crazy woman her husband's dead. I can remember, and without the veil of madness, everything is clear. Then I ask where my son is. This time they tell me. I cry. I ask my last question. How long will I be human? Fourteen hours. My life is timed in minutes.

* * *

Seven of the fourteen hours are through. I have done nothing. I cannot wield a wand, cannot move, cannot think. I am Frankenstein, brought to life for nothing. They tell me I will probably die. They tell me to unlock the bolt dementia has put on my mind they run me through with the equivalent of a lightening storm. My death is real. It is coming. Just as it came for my husband. 

* * *

Eight of the fourteen hours. I ask to see my son. They refuse. I look at them, the sang-froid of lunacy and death coming into my eyes. They glance around uncomfortable. They know these are my final hours. They relent.

* * *

He arrives. I cry and he cries with me. I try to tell him everything I couldn't in the twenty years I've raved. He tells me about his life, and I say nothing about mine. He knows what its been like. We talk and talk, until it seems I can't move my tongue. Then with the surprising strength of a man, he sweeps me up and puts me to bed. My little boy. A man. And I did not get to see it.

* * *

Twelve of the fourteen hours. Death soon approaches. He still stays by my side. Everything starts to run together, and if I move my head too fast, I can see insanity skirting around the corners of eyes. My son tells me to sleep. I tell him in two hours, I will not wake up. 

* * *

Thirteen and a half of the fourteen hours. Everyone is here, except for the dead and I'll be seeing them soon. The minutes chop by like seconds as everyone pours out what they think are their hearts. I can tell though. They're pouring out soul. 

* * *

Slowly, silently, I close my eyes. Death is coming. I am ready for it. I have been waiting…but I forgot! I open my leaden wights of eyes, my son grasping my hand with tears streaming down his face. I reach up so slowly to wipe them away. Funnily enough, his cheeks get wetter. I whisper.

"I love you."

Then my eyes close and my hands fall. Slowly I am absorbed into the blackness. It welcomes me and I welcome it. i want nothing more to do with light. I learned that the light often brings pain.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Well, whaddya think? I can't read minds, so ya better review!! :) **

**My last chapter was Pansy Parkinson on dundunDUN . .Harry Potter!!Oddd, I know, but still . .don't you wonder what her real feelings might be towards him? And as for this chapter you can probaly guess. . . .but I'm still not telling!! ;)**

**-The Snazzy Nerd**


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